Faith by Fire (Prodigal Brothers MC Book 1)

by Rose Macwaters

  “It means that what started as a random attempt at stealing your purse became personal to the guys behind it the moment I stepped in. Which means,” Logan forced himself to meet her eyes. “You may be in serious danger. Because of me.”

  Chapter 9

  Charlie sat still as she processed that little bombshell. Here she was thinking she just had to decide how generous to be to the guy who attacked her in an alley, when really that wasn’t the question at all. Oh, no. The question was whether or not some crazy scary biker gang was going to target her because the man sitting across from her eating a banana muffin had saved her. She struggled to keep her hands steady as she took a sip of her espresso. The spicy cinnamon bitterness was soothing, and she managed a deeper breath.

  “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

  “Yeah.” Logan was watching her closely, his own expression tortured. Oh, right. He was probably blaming himself.

  “Please don’t feel bad. You couldn’t have known.” He seemed to relax slightly, his shoulders becoming less tense. “And what alternative did you have, exactly? Just let me get mugged to death?”

  He let out the breath he’d been holding in a soft chuckle. “I guess not.”

  “Okay, so…let me make sure I understand. You think the bad guys are going to come after me now because of some personal vendetta against you?”

  “I think they already have.”

  “The van.”

  “Yeah.”

  Charlie twisted a napkin in her fingers. “You’ve saved me twice now.”

  Logan’s only response was to drain the last of his coffee.

  Okay. She could deal with this. Logan scanned the interior of the coffee shop, then the parking lot outside. Charlie realized he’d been doing that the entire time. Broad daylight, and he wasn’t sure it was safe. In Willow Bough. Great.

  “So what do I need to do?”

  Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table between them. “Don’t go places alone for a while, even during the day. I talked to the sheriff, and he said he’ll have his deputies keep a closer eye on your neighborhood for a while longer, but without actual evidence you’re being targeted…”

  “There’s not a lot he can do.”

  “Afraid not.”

  “What about the guy who attacked me?”

  Logan leaned back and rubbed a hand down his face. “Doc did a little asking around. He’s homeless, probably straight out of the foster care system, exactly the kind of desperate recruit these gangs target. If he stays here or goes to prison, he’ll just wind up in deeper trouble. Or dead.”

  “Okay.”

  “The choice is yours, but if we can clear it with the sheriff, I’d recommend letting us relocate him to one of our brother organizations in another state. It would give him a place to stay, a job. Maybe a chance to stay alive and free. But, obviously, if you’d feel safer pressing charges—”

  “No, I like that plan.”

  “Okay. We’ll take care of it.”

  “What else should I do?”

  “Keep an eye out. If you see anyone suspicious or even just get a bad feeling, call the police. If you’re uncomfortable but not sure enough to call them, then you call me. I’ll check it out.”

  Charlie nodded. She could do that. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she blinked them back. She had to stop crying around this man.

  “For how long?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know. We’re not sure why they’ve moved south, or how long they plan to stay in our area. Could be a week, could be—”

  “Forever.”

  “Not forever.” He grinned at her, and Charlie felt warmth creep into her cheeks. “Your sheriff is good at his job. He’ll find a way to make it worth their while to move on.”

  Her phone chirped, providing a welcome distraction. It was later than she’d realized, and she was supposed to meet her mother and aunt for lunch.

  “I’m sorry, but I should go. I’m supposed to meet my mom on the other side of town.”

  Logan eased out of the booth and offered her a hand up. Charlie hesitated. She’d been avoiding physical contact with everyone, but especially men, for a long time. She couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse his offered kindness, however, so she took his hand. His touch was gentle, and he didn’t linger, but rather released her hand almost too soon. He handed her the bag with the extra scone.

  “Thank you for meeting me.”

  Charlie settled her purse on her shoulder and accepted the bag. “I enjoyed it. More than I expected to, if I’m completely honest.”

  He laughed quietly. “Enough to want to do it again? Maybe with a little less talk of violent criminals next time?”

  Charlie surprised herself by wanting to say yes. She wasn’t sure about touching him, and she was even less sure about anything resembling dating after Greg, but she was certain about wanting to get to know him better. He made her feel safe, and…happy. Guilt flooded in, threatening to drown the almost-good feelings.

  “I’d like that. Are you free next weekend? We could meet for Sunday brunch. I know a great place downtown, Dottie’s.”

  Logan shook his head apologetically. “I have church in the morning with the rest of the Brothers. You’re welcome to join me. Doc leads the service, and it’s very relaxed. No pressure at all.”

  Charlie regretted everything. “Oh, uh, thank you, but I don’t really…That is, I haven’t, uh. I don’t…go to church. Anymore.”

  She looked up at him, expecting judgment, but she found only kind acceptance written on his face.

  “I gotcha.” Logan held the door for her walk through. “Well, brunch won’t work for me, but lunch would. Would that be okay?”

  Charlie nodded as she slipped past him, back out into the warm summer air. “Lunch sounds great. 12:30?”

  “Dottie’s, you said?”

  “Yes.” Charlie unlocked her car and set her purse and the bagged scone on the back seat.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Charlie looked up at Logan, with his disconcertingly rugged yet kind face and those dark eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul. He would be there.

  “You said you’re meeting people?”

  “Yes, my mom and my aunt.”

  “Good. Remember, nowhere alone. For a while, at least. And if you see anything suspicious—”

  “I’ll call the police. Or you.”

  “Good.” He reached past her to open the driver’s door. “Be safe, Charlotte.”

  “Charlie.”

  “What?”

  “My friends call me Charlie.”

  He grinned at her again, and she felt her cheeks flush.

  “Be safe, Charlie.”

  As she pulled out of the parking lot, she watched Logan in her rearview mirror. He slung one long leg over his bike and kept his eyes on her car as he strapped on his helmet, his tattoos just visible below the sleeves of his t-shirt. She could never have found a man more different from Greg, even if she’d searched the whole world over.

  Chapter 10

  Logan leaned back in his chair and took a long drink of his coffee while he waited for Doc to get off the phone. The older man nodded, thanked whoever was on the other end of the line, and hung up. Logan set his coffee cup on the edge of Doc’s desk and settled forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

  “That sounded serious. What's up?”

  Doc held up a finger for him to wait while he scribbled notes on a pad next to the phone. After a moment, he set down the pen and looked up at Logan.

  “There's been trouble with one of the families in our community,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “That caller asked for anonymity, which makes our job more difficult.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I need you to take a couple of the Brothers and go over to the Mary Street Preschool downtown. Apparently, the mother of one of the kids was beaten by her husband last night.” Doc paused, and Logan watched anger washed over his face as his fists
clenched and unclenched on the desktop. “Some days the past feels longer ago than others,” he said through clenched teeth. “Most days I'm glad its past, but others? Other times I wish I still used my hands to solve certain problems.”

  Logan understood better than most. “I saw Cal and Jack come in a few minutes ago. I'll see if they're free to go with me. You said the caller asked for anonymity. Can you tell me anything else?”

  “No. She's out of the hospital, but her husband ran off last night and hasn't been seen since. Sounds like she's worried he'll try to pick up their son or harass the friend she sends to pick him up. You'll just be there as a deterrent. I'll call the director, make sure she's on board with us hanging out there for the rest of the morning.”

  “Sounds good.” Logan stood up. “Should we go ahead over there?”

  “Yeah, get the boys and go on over. I'll call you if anything changes.”

  Logan was halfway out the door when Doc called his name. He stopped to look back.

  “Say hello to Charlotte for me.”

  “What?”

  Doc smiled. “Didn't you know? Charlotte Woodland works at Mary Street. In the four-year-old room, I think.”

  “I'll tell her.”

  As soon as he was out of Doc’s sight, Logan let the smile he’d been holding back spread over his face. He wanted to take down the man who dared hurt his own wife as much as the next guy, but there was no denying how he felt about seeing Charlie again. No denying it at all.

  Logan found Cal and Jack in the diner finishing breakfast. He stopped by their booth but didn't sit.

  “Hey, you guys got anything going on this morning or are you free to accompany me on official Brothers business?”

  Calvin Hernandez set down his fork and used a napkin to wipe his mouth before answering. He was a smaller man than Logan was, but as tough as they come. He was a guy you wanted on your side in a fight, not the other way around. An American flag tattoo peaked out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. He’d served two tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq before receiving his honorable discharge after a landmine took one of his legs and required a steel rod be placed in the other.

  “Nah, dude,” he said. “I'm free. You?” He nodded at Jack across the table.

  Jack drained the last of his coffee then moved to get up from the table.

  “I'm free, too. All yours, brother. What are we doing?”

  “Domestic abuse. The guy took a runner, so we’re going to go hangout at the kid’s preschool, make sure the coward doesn't show his face. The family has asked for privacy, so no names.”

  “Are we going to look for the guy?” Jack pulled his long black hair into a ponytail then doubled it into a knot. It was past his shoulders now. Doc said he hadn't cut it since his wife was killed in a home invasion five years before. He'd used his skills as an investigative reporter to track down the guy who did it and put him in the hospital. A moral choice perhaps, but not a legal one. The judge had been lenient and his time in prison was limited, but his felony record meant his career as a journalist was over. Now he ran the ministry website and wrote most of their documentation and any ad copy. There was talk of starting a newsletter.

  Logan shook his head. “I don’t know. Doc’s on it. Our job is to go make the preschool and the kids there feel safe until the wife’s friend gets there to pick the kid up, then we’ll escort them wherever they’re going. Probably the safe house outside Marianna.”

  Cal nodded and reached for his bag before getting up. In pants you’d never know one of his legs was a prosthetic, but the kids loved to see it, ask questions, so he always carried a change of clothes with him, just in case. “I’ll go change and meet you at the bikes.”

  The preschool director was waiting for them outside the old brick building that housed the preschool when they pulled into the parking lot at Mary Street. Middle-aged with light grey hair that sat on her shoulders in soft curls, Marla Johnson was as kind as she looked until somebody threatened her kids. Logan had been sent to the preschool once before—a custody dispute had turned ugly, and Mrs. Johnson had asked them to provide a visual deterrent to trouble. There wasn’t a lot the Sheriff’s Department could do until after an offense had been committed, and she wanted to avoid it ever getting to that point. Doc had ordered a bouncy castle. Since then, Mrs. Johnson had become one of the Prodigal Brothers’ most outspoken supporters in the community.

  Logan dismounted and approached the director. Her expression was serious, worry deepening the lines on her face. She pulled him into a hug, then stepped back to look up into his face.

  “Thank you for coming, Logan,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I doubt that horrible man would dare show his face here, but then I never would have thought he’d hurt anyone, much less…do what he did.” She cleared her throat. “Apparently, it’s been going on for years, but she never told anyone. Not even her sister.”

  Logan nodded. It was a story they heard a lot. Abusive relationships often developed gradually and were notoriously difficult to get out of. Shame, fear, and even love kept women trapped in dangerous marriages all the time. He gestured toward the Brothers he’d brought with him.

  “This is Calvin Hernandez and Jack Tanaka. I don’t know if you’ve met them.”

  She shook their hands. “I haven’t, but I’m glad to. I count all of Doc’s boys as friends, and I thank God every day for the work you do here in Willow Bough. And here at Mary Street today.”

  “Tell us how we can help.” Logan scanned the parking lot and the grassy yard around the sides of the red brick building. The sun glinted off the windows, and he wondered which classroom was Charlie’s.

  Mrs. Johnson thought for a minute. “I think if y’all would park your motorcycles up closer to the front door, just to make it obvious that you’re here, and then if one of you would stay out here, maybe walk around the front of the building, keep an eye on the side yards, that’d be great. Then I’d ask for someone to stay in the office with Hilda.”

  “I’ll take first shift out here,” Cal offered. He flashed Mrs. Johnson a bright smile. “I won’t let anyone in without your clearance.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Okay. Jack, you head into the office for now.” Logan turned back to the director. “And what about me, ma’am? Where else would you like covered?”

  Mrs. Johnson smiled up at him. “The playground, if you don’t mind. It’s fenced in, but it does back up on the woods that lead all the way to Cameron Park.”

  Logan scratched his jaw. Yep. If he were trying to make it inside without being seen, that’s the direction he would approach from.

  “You got it.”

  “Thank you again, Logan.” Mrs. Johnson patted Jack on the arm as she led him into the building.

  Logan turned to Cal. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll just be around back.”

  “You think the guy will show?”

  “I doubt it. Especially not with us here. Any man who hits his wife is a grade A coward. And cowards take the easy way. We’re not it.”

  Cal nodded. “Too bad. I wouldn’t mind ‘subduing’ the guy until the cops get here.”

  Logan chuckled. “Me either, brother. Me either.”

  He scanned the parking lot and surrounding neighborhood once more before walking around the side of the building. The grass was freshly cut and still damp from the morning dew. Logan took a deep breath, savoring the undeniably green scent. Joyful screams cut through the quiet as he neared the backyard. As he rounded the final corner and the large play area came into view, complete with tiny humans dashing around and clambering over the slides and monkey bars, Logan’s breath caught in his throat.

  Charlie.

  She stood near the swing set, her back to him. She wore her hair up off her neck in a loose bun. A few curls fell free around her collar. She was so beautiful. He watched as she gave one small child a boost on the swings while accepting a warm hug from another who had wrapped her arms around Charlie's leg. She looked mor
e comfortable, more relaxed, then he'd ever seen her. Certainly more than she usually seemed to be around him. but he was working on that.

  Logan hesitated. He hated to disturb her at work, but he also wanted her to know he was there. As he continued to debate, the decision was made for him as one of Doc's granddaughters spotted him and came squealing over.

  “Uncle Logan!” When she was within a few feet of him she launched herself into the air, and he caught her in a hug. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and squeezed before planting a slightly wetter than necessary kiss on his cheek. Kids were great help when you're trying to move forward, make a new life for yourself, Doc always said. Because they don't see your past, they don't see who you used to be, they see who you are now. It's a gift.

  As Logan set her gently to the ground, Charlie approached.

  “I take it you two know each other,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “Katie Ann, who is this man?”

  The four-year-old practically jumped up and down, tugging on Logan's hand the whole time. “This is my uncle Logan! He's not really my uncle, but I call him Uncle, cuz he is.”

  Logan chuckled and when he met Charlie's eyes, she was returning his smile, her dimples flashing briefly before retreating. He had to find more ways of encouraging them into the light.

  “Well, Uncle Logan,” Charlie said after a moment. “Welcome to Mary Street Preschool. I don't think I've seen you here before.”

  Logan shook his head. He knew what she was asking. “I've been here once or twice. but not for a while.”

  “Are you here to visit Katie Ann?”

  Logan cleared his throat, then leaned down to speak to his not-niece. “Your Grandpa Doc tells me you've been working on learning how to swing by yourself. Can you show me?”

  She gave him a gap-toothed grin and took off at a run, yelling back over her shoulder, “I can do it! All by myself!”

  Once she was out of earshot, Logan turned back to Charlie, keeping his voice low.